


In Quiet Places

by cavaleira



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, D/s undertones, Face-Fucking, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cavaleira/pseuds/cavaleira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stiles doesn't understand what this is between them. All he knows is that he loves the slide of Derek's cock in his mouth and the odd brand of tenderness Derek only shows him in these stolen moments."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Quiet Places

When Stiles gets to the Hale house that evening, Derek is waiting for him.

He's standing in the space that qualifies as his "bedroom" only in the very, very loosest of sense of the word. It's in a section of the house that still has a roof and there's a mattress with a cheap bed frame in it. Even though Stiles chose to come here tonight, he can't help but shudder a bit every time he goes to the Hale house; it will never not be creepy to him, not after all that's happened there.

The room is dim, lit by nothing but a single floor lamp in the corner and the last bits of daylight streaming through the broken windows. Derek acknowledges Stiles' presence with a nod, but he doesn't say anything. His posture is stiff and looks almost as if he's standing guard over something; a lonely sentinel in the half-light.

Derek's dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, but he still looks amazing. Honestly, Derek could wear the ugliest Christmas sweater in the world and still look like a fucking model. It's really not fair, but neither is anything else in Stiles' life these days.

Their eyes meet and Stiles feels his cheeks heat up and his heartbeat race at the intensity in Derek's stare. Derek's lips quirk just slightly and Stiles knows that he can hear it too.

"Where is everyone?" Stiles asks.

"Away."

Stiles wonders just how much the others know about him and Derek. They haven't said a word about it to him, and he's grateful for it. He's always grateful that Derek always sends them away when he knows Stiles is coming by. Stiles supposes it's a sort of twisted kindness, which makes sense considering that it's Derek.

Stiles doesn't know if he could do this if the pack were close by; he doesn't know if he could handle them hearing the little noises he makes when Derek's cock is in his mouth.

Because that's why he's here. Stiles doesn't understand why he likes it ( _why you_ need _it_ , a little voice inside him says), but it doesn't matter. It just is.

They're not boyfriends or whatever. They're not even really friends. Stiles doesn't think Derek knows _how_ to have friends. Stiles doesn't understand what this is between them. All he knows is that loves the slide of Derek's cock in his mouth and the odd brand of tenderness Derek only shows him in these stolen moments.

"You know what to do," Derek says, his heated gaze on Stiles.

Stiles crosses the room and then drops to his knees in front of Derek. Even though Stiles has done this several times before, his fingers always shake a little when he undoes Derek's fly and today is no exception. He rubs Derek's cock through his boxers and it feels warm against his hand, already half hard. He wants to press his face there and inhale Derek's scent, but not now. Not yet.

That's not how they do things. There's a certain way about it, almost like some kind of bizarre ritual. Stiles supposes that it's appropriate considering where they are; this burnt out husk of a house that's like a shrine to everything Derek has lost.

Derek pushes Stiles' hand away and slides his pants and underwear down to his knees. His cock springs free, thick and already flushed red.

"Get me hard," Derek says, in a tone of voice that brooks no argument. And as much as Stiles loves arguing with people, he can hold himself back for the moment. He figures that 90% of his interactions with Derek involve them arguing with each other anyway. It's honestly refreshing to find something they can agree on for once.

Stiles takes Derek's cock in his hand and starts stroking him. Derek's cock feels hot and heavy in his hand. It feels right. Stiles lets out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. He's missed this. It's been almost two weeks since he last had it, far too long. He was the one who caved this time and called Derek. Every time he does it, he's always afraid Derek will say no but he never does.

Stiles leans forward and licks a long stripe up the length of Derek's cock. He teases at Derek's heavy balls with one hand while he keeps licking and stroking the shaft with the other. He knows Derek likes this, can tell by the way his breath hitches and his cock keeps getting thicker and harder. Derek will want more soon, but for now Stiles just enjoys it. There's something almost meditative about the way Stiles loses himself in the feel of Derek's cock against the flat of his tongue.

That's one of the reasons Stiles loves this so much. He can just... let go. If only for a little while he can stop worrying about his dad and Scott. He doesn't have to worry about trying to stay alive in the face of all the fucked up supernatural shit that has taken over his life. He doesn't have to face crushing panic that comes when he feels like he's out of his depth.

And then there's Derek. Stiles can't be sure about what this does for him, but he thinks he understands. Though Derek tries to remain impassive all the time, his insecurities are always on display, clinging to him like the leather jackets he always wears. It must be nice for him to have this simple sense of control. Maybe it distracts Derek from thinking about just how little control he has over everything else in his life.

"Enough," Derek says as he grips Stiles' chin and tilts his head up. His grip is firm, but not cruel. "Open you mouth."

Stiles hesitates for a moment, a habit he hasn't been able to break himself of. He looks into Derek's eyes then, sees the need in him that lurks in the corners of his stare. He knows that Derek is looking into his eyes too, seeing that same need reflected back at him.

Derek runs the pad of his thumb along Stiles' bottom lip. Stiles rests his hands on Derek's thighs to brace himself, and then he opens his mouth.

Derek cards his hand through Stiles' hair and then leaves it there. It's a warm, heavy weight on the back of his head, one that steadies and grounds him.

Derek takes his erection in hand and then slowly guides it into Stiles' waiting mouth. Stiles closes his eyes and moans at the feel of it; hot and thick and forcing his mouth to stretch open even wider.

Derek sighs. "Yeah, that's it," he says as Stiles slowly starts working his mouth up and down. Derek always lets him go at his own pace at first. Lets him get used to having a cock in his mouth again.

Derek grips Stiles' head a little harder. "Come on, I know you can do better than that."

Stiles takes Derek up on his challenge. He starts taking Derek deeper and sucking a little faster. He moans around Derek's dick and saliva starts to run down his chin as he tries to deep throat it.

Derek pets Stiles' hair, and Stiles moans at the touch. "That's it. Good boy," he says, and Stiles hates himself a little for the sick thrill he gets whenever Derek calls him that. It makes Stiles want it more, makes him work just that much harder for it.

"Yeah, come on, Stiles," Derek says, his voice a little breathless. He puts a little more pressure on Stiles' head and Stiles takes more, doing his best to curb his gag reflex. Derek shudders and sighs as he keeps murmuring encouraging words to Stiles. Stiles starts to work up a rhythm, slowly taking Derek's cock deeper into his mouth with every pass. He's so close to taking Derek all the way down to the root when Derek grips his head in both hands and stops him. Stiles moans in protest and Derek lets out a low chuckle. Stiles' head is slightly at an angle, making the head of Derek's cock press into Stiles' cheek. Derek runs his thumb over it, feeling his own cock through the soft skin there.

Stiles finally opens his eyes again, looking up and meeting Derek's gaze.

"You love this, don't you?" Derek says. "You want this so badly."

Stiles moans then, the heavy weight of Derek's dick in his mouth muffling the sound. Derek is right; he fucking loves this.

 _You do too_ , Stiles thinks as he looks at Derek, because it's impossible for him to say anything with his mouth stuffed full of cock.

"You've been doing such a good job," Derek says, and the praise makes Stiles flush with both pride and embarrassment. "But I know you can take more," Derek continues. "Don't worry, Stiles. I'll help you."

Derek pulls out and Stiles stares at the thin string of drool from his mouth to Derek's cock until it breaks. With surprisingly gentle fingers, Derek takes Stiles' head in his hands, positioning it just the way he wants. And Stiles lets him. He lets his arms fall from Derek's thighs, lets himself go slack and limp for what Derek's going to do to him.

"Good. Now open wide again," Derek says. Stiles does and then Derek's cock is sliding in again, filling him up. Derek holds him up, holds him steady as he starts to fuck Stiles' mouth. Though his touch on Stiles' head is still relatively gentle, his thrusts are anything but. He fucks Stiles slow and rough and Stiles struggles to breathe through his nose as Derek takes what he wants. The room is filled with slick, wet sounds, Derek's raspy breaths and Stiles'... well. He doesn't like to think of the sounds he's making as whimpers, but he would be hard pressed to come up with an alternative word, even if Derek weren't fucking his mouth right now.

When Derek finally pushes his cock to the back of Stiles' throat, Stiles chokes and the sensation makes his eyes prick with involuntary tears.

Derek's breath comes out in harsh little pants as he rolls his hips slowly, making Stiles take it. "Fuck, _Stiles_ ," Derek moans, and Stiles loves this part, when Derek's composure starts to crack. "God, your _mouth_. You're so good, such a good boy."

And there's that little thrill again shooting through Stiles. It makes him realize just how hard he is; he's been so focused on Derek's cock that he'd forgotten about his own. He humps the air desperately and moans around Derek's cock, hoping that he'll understand what Stiles is asking for.

Thankfully, Derek does. Stiles is eternally grateful when Derek stops fucking his mouth long enough to push his leg in between Stiles' legs, pressed right against his cock. Stiles lets out little desperate noises as he humps Derek's leg. The friction is rough, but it's just right.

Derek's breathing becomes more labored and his expression goes slack with pleasure as he picks up his pace and fucks into Stiles' mouth with abandon. Derek is gorgeous, but never more so than when he's like this.

Stiles can't see Derek's face through his tears anymore so he lets his eyelids flutter shut and just _feels_. It's like everything just stops. Nothing registers except Derek's cock in his mouth, his firm grip on Stiles' head, and the rough friction against Stiles' cock as he eagerly chases his own orgasm.

Derek is falling apart too, unable to keep quiet as he thrusts his cock down Stiles' throat.

"You look so good on your knees, _fuck_ Stiles," Derek moans. "Gonna come down your throat, gonna give it to you. I know you want it."

Stiles shakes and then his vision goes white and his body trembles as he comes in his pants. Derek lets out a growl and comes too, forcing Stiles to swallow desperately as the bitter taste fills his mouth. Despite his best efforts, he can't swallow it all and some drips out and rolls down his chin. There's always so much of it; it had honestly freaked Stiles out the first time, but now he's mostly used to it. Stiles wonders if it's a werewolf thing, but Stiles has never asked and Derek isn't the kind of person who volunteers information. Stiles supposes he could ask Scott about it, but that would just invite more questions that he doesn't want to answer. Scott already gives him strange looks sometimes and asks why he smells like Derek.

Derek lets out one more shuddery moan and then he pulls out. Stiles carefully wipes his eyes so that he can look up at Derek again. Stiles knows that his face is streaked with tears, that he's a total mess with spit and come dripping down his chin. But Derek doesn't seemed bothered by it all. He's quiet and wide-eyed, and looking at Stiles like he's something rare and beautiful. Like he wants Stiles for more than just this.

And then - as always - Derek remembers himself and his expression shutters again. Stiles looks away and does his best to curb his own stupid feelings of disappointment.

Derek pulls his pants back on, tucking his cock back inside quickly before zipping and buttoning up his fly. He reaches out a hand and helps Stiles to his feet, his grip strong and sure. Derek leaves the room for a moment and when he comes back it's with a towel for Stiles to wipe his face with. When Stiles is finished, Derek takes the towel from him and leaves the room again to put it god knows where. It's not like they really have laundry facilities in this house.

When Derek returns they stand there for several long moments, not looking at each other. Stiles never knows what to say afterwards. Derek never knows what to say at all.

"Well, see you around," Stiles says awkwardly and then he turns to go.

"Stiles."

Stiles turns around and then suddenly Derek is there in his space, pulling him close and kissing him. As many times as they've had their little encounters, Derek has never kissed him. Stiles is frozen in shock for a moment but then he kisses back and it feels so good. He keeps kissing Derek, wanting more of the delicious slide of lips and tongue and the rough feel of Derek's stubble against his cheeks. Somehow it feels even more intimate than having Derek's cock in his mouth.

Stiles is the one who breaks the kiss because he wants... he _needs_ to see Derek's face right now. He needs to understand what's going on here. They both pant for breath and Stiles stares at him, but Derek won't meet his eyes.

Instead, he nods and then turns away, making it clear that the conversation is over. It's just as well because Stiles feels even more at a loss for words than before, and that's not something that happens to him very often.

On the drive home, Stiles tries not to think about the taste of Derek's come still lingering in his mouth. Or the feeling of his own come, cooling in his jeans. But most of all, he tries not to think about the kiss and what it may have meant.

He fails.


End file.
